


Hot Cross Bunny

by unwillingadventurer



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Fluffy Ending, M/M, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwillingadventurer/pseuds/unwillingadventurer
Summary: It's Easter time and Raffles has returned from the dead.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	Hot Cross Bunny

Spring had begun that year with a biting cold snap, plunging us all into days of wrapping ourselves in coats to shield ourselves from the bracing winds and sleeting rain. After the long winter, I longed for some sunshine and warmth, just like those summer days with Raffles in which we lay together in the long grass, watching the clouds floating by in various shapes and formations. Finally, by Easter it appeared as though I had my wish— warmth at last— though cold in my heart for where the sun came out, Raffles still remained gone.

In that mild day of April, I made my regular walk to the graveyard where I laid flowers for him. Lilies looked exceedingly pretty by his headstone but had I the choice, I’d have lain pearls and emeralds by his side as those beautiful jewels were what he had admired so much during his lifetime and if I could have scattered them in the soil like seeds then I would have done. And then what would they have grown into, more beautiful sparkling jewels for him to enjoy from the heavens, like a message from me to him? 

I tapped the top of his headstone. “Hello, A.J.”

I wiped away a tear that had fallen onto my cheek. It’d been two years since I had lost him but I don’t think I had visited him once without weeping. I felt a pang of guilt too for not having visited him for several weeks and only venturing along when Easter drew around. The grave was starting to look untidy so I tended to it—Raffles needed to look his best and finally I was satisfied with the result. I had attended the Easter service that morning located at our local church near Ham Common and there I stood that day, melancholy after the service, proud of my clearing up and thinking of nothing by my A.J.

“I miss you,” I said to his grave. 

I often spoke to him though he could not answer. There were always ways I felt he was there. Whenever the wind howled on a stormy evening, he was angry with me, or whenever a petal fell onto my cheek from above it was like a soft kiss from his long-missed lips.

I glanced to the distance and gazed upon a beautiful blooming blossom tree. Where winter had once been there seemed to now be the salvation of spring and I walked suddenly, almost entranced to that pink scene, and stood beneath the branches, encapsulated by its beauty. I could sense a figure looming behind me and then a shadow forming upon the grass…and there he was— the man in front of me—standing underneath the branches which looked like tiny fingers reaching out.

At first I thought nothing of the man, assuming he was simply one of the congregation, but then I looked carefully at his face. He looked familiar with wavy silver hair tumbling into his eyes, a familiar smile, and a familiar hand reaching out toward mine.

“Bunny, don’t be afraid.”

But I was terrified. I froze. It was him! That was Raffles’ voice! I’d never forgotten it. I heard it in my dreams. Was he a ghost?

“I’m not a ghost, Bunny,” he said as though he read my thoughts, “or rather I was dead in a sense. I have risen from the grave as it were.”

I stepped back a pace but he moved forward and as he brushed the wild hair from his eyes, I was lost in the deepness of those pools of blue, those unmistakable eyes of Raffles.

“But you’re dead!” I said, leading him away from the trees and back to his own gravestone which I pointed at dramatically. I had to read it, just to be certain.

He touched my shoulder lightly and I cringed as he took a step forward until he was standing on the earth where his coffin lay below.

“Only officially. I’m becoming rather a dab hand at being dead but I’m back now.”

“But it’s been two years?”

“Safest time to wait, my dear Bunny. I couldn’t come back too soon. And now on this Easter, like Jesus, I am resurrected.”

“You think a lot of yourself!” I bowed my head, trying not to cry. “But did you not think of me?”

“Every day, my dear Bunny. I’ve been reading all your articles. You write so wonderfully about me. You kept me alive.”

“It kept me alive too.”

Raffles looked down. “Can we go somewhere quiet? Ham Common perhaps?”

“Yes.” I didn’t allow myself to feel happy just yet. I couldn’t feel excitement or joy. I felt fear, paranoia and uncertainty. I was incapable of being able to feel ecstasy at his return. There was also anger within me, there was confusion and panic and every emotion known to man.

And yet when he looked at me, I could’ve thrown my tired arms around him, kissed him and wept with how much I missed and loved him. Instead I kept him at arm’s length. Even if he had good reason to do what he had done, I was still angry. I had suffered greatly.

…

The walk back to the cottage was in perfect silence, I with my limp, walking carefully with the aid of my stick, and Raffles unusually one step behind as though he were shadowing me. When we reached the safety of the cottage, he stood by the hearth in the living room and smiled a guilty smile. He then held out his hand.

“Bunny, please, I’ve waited so long.”

“And I haven’t?”

“You are a hot cross Bunny, aren’t you?”

“The crossest I ever was. And the most…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I needed to touch him, just slightly, and without even really weighing the options in my mind, I had taken his hand and squeezed it tightly. His flesh. The real A.J Raffles in the flesh. He had returned to me.

“You’ve really come back to me?” I whispered.

“Yes, and are you still my hot cross little rabbit?”

I smirked. “Of course, you didn’t think you’d get off that lightly, did you?”

A small pout emerged on his face. “I thought perhaps you could forgive me after a suitable amount of time had passed?”

I sat down upon the settee and he joined me, sitting so close I could smell the soap and scent of him. I looked at him intently, studying his face for new lines and creases. 

“And what amount of time do you suppose is a suitable amount?”

“Fifteen minutes?” He laughed that deep throaty laugh that was so infectious and I irritatingly found myself responding with a wide smile.

“I’ve missed that smile,” he said, placing his fingers upon my cheek. “I’ve missed your whole innocent face. I came across many people on my travels but not once did I find a face so pure.”

“Don’t try and butter me up, Raffles, I’m still darned irritated with you.”

I turned away from him, folded my arms, refused to smile and shooed him away to the far side of the room so I could think.

…

“Bunny, it’s been several hours, you’ve barely spoken a word. Are you still cross with me?”

He was looking at me from the other side of the room, gazing upon me, seducing me with his eyes and smile. I had tried to resist temptation from him just as I had resisted the temptation of whiskey and a smoke for Lent.

“Yes, I’m still cross.”

He joined me on the settee again and touched my knee. “I’m not asking you to forgive my actions, I’m asking that you accept I am returned to you. The fact is I am here. I’m alive, my dear chap, and I don’t mind telling you that I didn’t feel much alive when we were parted.”

There was a brief pause while I considered his words and then suddenly I leapt forward and threw my arms around his neck. “Oh A.J, do you mean that?”

He laughed. “I do.” 

There were beads of sweat on his forehead and he looked almost like he had once when he’d spent the hours in that old chest of silver. But back then I had only waited days, now he’d made me wait years, thinking he was buried not in a chest but far below in the ground. His eyes were so alive then and dazzling like diamonds and suddenly all the memories rushed through my mind, all that we shared, all that we lost, all we ever did and were and I found peace. He had lied to me again. He had reason to. He also had reason not to. But what did it matter at that moment when he was beside me? He was all I craved the last two years. 

His fingers ran up my arm and found my neck. I had missed his touch. I had missed everything. 

“And you won’t leave me again?”

“I’m not in the habit of wanting to,” he replied simply and then he looked at me carefully as though studying me under a microscope. “Are you going to explain the moustache?” 

“Explain it? Does one need to explain facial hair?”

“You want me to explain my absence, I think it only fair to explain the decision to house something upon your top lip?”

I tried not to smirk but alas I did just that. “Is a fellow not permitted a change?”

“It’s a drastic one, Bunny. But I admit, I have never kissed anyone with facial hair before.”

“Never?” 

“Not unless you count dear Aunt Mildred at Christmas.”

“But really, A.J?”

“No, and hint hint, Bunny.”

“Oh!” I leaned in and kissed him. Oh, merciful heavens, oh blessed relief. My lips upon his. My A.J alive and kissing me!

“I’m so glad you’ve risen from the dead, A.J.” I managed to utter between kisses. “Just like you to achieve such a feat. Though technically you never died. I think you’re milking this resurrection a little bit.”

“True but it was damn good show. Now I have returned and Act Three can resume. I suppose you wish to know just where I’ve been all this time.”

“Of course I do.”

“Well then fetch me a whiskey and a Sullivan and I shall recount the whole story from deathbed to stepping foot on English soil. By Jove I missed this green and pleasant land.”

“Whiskey and Sullivans’ coming up. I’ve not had any for weeks myself. I think I’ll join you.”

As I held my hands out to light his cigarette, his hands cupped mine and he smiled at me. “Together as it should be. No one shall bother us again.” He peered in my eyes. “And are you still my hot cross little Bunny?”


End file.
